Chapter 2

With Li Mingzhao’s promise secured, my father stopped restraining Jiang Mingyue.

He let her turn the household upside down as she pleased.

Even when a maid spilled scalding tea on her favorite skirt and she drew a sword and cut off the girl’s hands.

I stood nearby, my whole body frozen in horror.

She flicked the blood from her blade, ignoring the maid’s sobs and screams on the floor. Pointing to the small wet patch on her skirt, she looked down at me and said,

“Lick it clean.”

I did not refuse. Not for a second.

I licked it spotless.

She doubled over laughing and said I was like a dog.

All I could do was endure it and smile for her.

Until you had ability and power, pride and temper were invitations to an early grave.

I duly “fell gravely ill,” with a fever that would not break.

Meanwhile, on Chang’an Street, a young prince had set up an arena for a martial contest.

The winner was a man named Zhao Sui. He could hit a willow leaf at a hundred paces, and his swordsmanship was exceptional.

A commoner with no rank, he had routed a whole host of noblemen and royal scions.

His dashing victory emboldened one young woman in the crowd to declare her love.

Unmoved, he answered frankly,

“My heart belongs to someone else. I cannot marry you.”

She asked who held his heart. He answered: Mingyue of the Jiang family.

Those words earned Jiang Mingyue still more admiration and envy.

People always counted a woman’s admirers to measure certain kinds of success.

Jiang Mingyue loved swordplay, but could never find a satisfying match.

Her instructors naturally dared not fight her in earnest.

Her moods were unpredictable. She had killed people in a rage before.

She rode out to find this man who had dared to proclaim his love for her before a crowd.

Ever since her betrothal to Li Mingzhao, every man in the capital had kept well away from her.

She had never met anyone so bold.

She grew curious about him.

Zhao Sui was nothing like Li Mingzhao.

Li Mingzhao was heir to the throne, a future “benevolent” ruler upon whom great hopes had been pinned.

Those things he had said about me—hadn’t they described his own life at other people’s mercy just as well?

Zhao Sui was different.

He was a swordsman, free and unbound.

That alone was romantic enough to captivate a sheltered young woman whose only glimpse of the world of wandering heroes came from storybooks.

With a few words, Zhao Sui spread a world of romance and adventure before Jiang Mingyue.

She longed for it.

On the Lantern Festival, my father confined her at home and had her punished for meeting Zhao Sui in secret.

Once again, the rattan switch broke. Once again, her resolve did not.

While drums and gongs filled the busy streets, the chancellor’s residence lay silent as death.

At the stretch of rear wall nearest Jiang Mingyue, Zhao Sui released a hundred sky lanterns.

They shone as bright as day. He climbed the wall, gathered the red-eyed Jiang Mingyue into his arms, and took her onto the rooftops to look down at the splendor below.

Chang’an Street was packed shoulder to shoulder. While admiring the great mountain of lanterns, Jiang Mingyue became separated from him. Several traffickers cornered her against a wall and harassed her.

The tale of a hero rescuing a beauty came to life.

Zhao Sui descended from above.

From then on, she gave him her heart.

And set off with him to roam the world.

—

Jiang Mingyue was lost in the first stirrings of a young girl’s love.

She had forgotten what the little maid whose hands she had severed, who had begged so desperately for her life, had once told her.

“I have a betrothed studying swordsmanship on Mount Zhongnan. He’s ever so good.

“When he finishes his training, he’ll come here to marry me.

“Then even a little maid like me can be a beautiful bride, just once!”

—

But the little maid had died that very night, the night she lost her hands.